


The Mirror & The Moon

by telepathy



Series: The Castle & The Rose [2]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Forbidden themes, Heartache, Hope, Longing, Memories, Missing Scenes, Sadness, happiness, pity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 08:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10590450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telepathy/pseuds/telepathy
Summary: Another missing scene! Beast's POV (always). He uses the mirror to see Belle...





	

The ragged, torn ends of my shroud whip from side to side as I race away in anger. The girl had refused dinner with me and so I went ahead and demanded she starve now. 

I'm a monster. A beast. It's no wonder laughter dies a swift death whenever I enter a room. It’s an unquestionable truth that there is no joy to be had when I'm around. 

Admittedly, I do not welcome it as there is nothing inside of me that deserves such kinship, such ease of comfort or happiness. 

But in this moment, I'm angrier than I've been in years, possibly ever. But I'm not sure it's due to the fact that she refused my request or that I had to request at all. Or, perhaps even because I was kind to her and that show was outright ignored. 

How can a girl such as Belle not see the utterly trying and difficult thing a concept like kindness is for an It like me? How can she not know? 

Stupid girl. Stupid, willful girl. 

I stare at the rose as it withers and falls apart, the sense that my humanity slipping farther away from me evermore. Or rather an idea of humanity, a memory of what once was. 

Yet I can’t help but ask the wind and whispers that surround this hallowed ground: is it possible...? Might she ever _see_ me as someone worthy of…more? 

But no, no it can’t be. I'm a ghastly being and she, a beautiful Belle caught in an impossible tower. She comes from the town that had been forced to forget. Another lovely trick of the enchantress. 

I grumble and blow out a plume of hot air. It rises like steam from the old Paris street-vents I once leapt over as a boy. There were games and carefree moments of adventure and the forever promise of more. 

But that was a lifetime ago. 

It has been years of a permanent frost – around my castle, and around my heart. But now, now a curiosity is stealing me against my better judgement, and despite the reticence to give in, I’m floundering. Waiting on nothing and everything all in the same fleeting moment.

The mirror lays beside the ornate crystal dome, begging for me to use it. I'd swear there is a hum emitting from it, as if it knows I’ve been lost for too long in this in-between place. Not there but not really here either. And it wants me to see how true life is lived, how monsters exist merely within the pages of a novel. To remind me of all that I have forgone. 

Cursed, wicked thing. 

I give in to this enchanted window, turning it towards my hideous face; its faded edges cloud over, awaiting a request, awaiting an opportunity to hurt me. 

"Show me the girl."

And it does. And she's there, in her room, sat on the floor and frightened. Two slender arms are wrapped tightly around her folded form, those deep brown eyes searching for an answer, longing for a way out. 

I pull my sight from the reflection and slide the weighty object onto the table. Pushing it farther away as though the intricate metal had somehow burned my hands. 

I've frightened her. 

A hate, a searing flash of self-loathe soars through me and I want so badly to tear the beastly flesh from my malformed bones. I can’t bare the thought of what I’ve done and yet, I cannot promise myself I’ll never repeat the mistakes of this night. 

For how am I able to control a temper that has become second-nature, a thing that is an extension of who I am? How? _How?_

I walk out onto the balcony and stare at the moon as it circles endlessly, pulling and pushing all the while. Perhaps a creature like me could fit comfortably in a place like that? It’s cold and blue, gray and empty. 

I pity myself for a while longer, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the night sky as the time passes. Snow falls, snow always falls. I want to search her out again, to see if she’s calmer. To test and see if whatever sense of peace Belle possesses could somehow pass itself onto me. 

I reach for the mystic mirror, no hesitation this time. It knows me so well.

“Show me the girl.” 

It responds by showing a flash of color, music and life. She is smiling, laughing even, and sat at the grand dining room table, entertained by my…entire staff? Yes, Lumiere is singing, dancing. There is food, so much of it, and an endless explosion of joy that I’ve not seen, heard or felt within the confines of this fortress in too long a time. 

I want to be angry that orders were not heeded, angry that my servants have minds of their own and see no fault in disobeying me. But I won’t, not now at least. 

But what I want more than anything is to join them. To watch and be a part of this delicate, beautiful moment they’ve crafted for Belle. Because _look at her_ , she’s luminous and— 

I stop, swallow this sudden emotional overwhelm and concentrate on detaching myself from their parade of service. I’m not meant to be a part of this one, of that there is little doubt. I’m not certain I’m meant to be a part of anything here, anymore. 

Watching her still, I cling to the mirror’s handle as though it were giving me sustenance. Her eyes reflect the brilliant blue, red, orange, purple and green hues of Lumiere’s celebrations – it’s quite a sight. She’s not dancing, but she’s moving, ever so slightly. 

I’ve never seen such a beauty before, never suspected there was someone like her out there. It stops my heart when she smiles and covers her mouth in feigned shyness. My breath comes in shallow bursts at the lyrical sounds of her whimsy. I’ve fallen so far already. So fast. 

Shall I have a but a small peek? Would they notice I was there?

I fly from the west wing as though I am capable of physical flight, my tattered clothing whipping about behind me. I traverse the broken cement steps one landing at time to reach them, the mirror left and abandoned for now. 

At the door to the hall, I stop, place a paw against the centuries-old mahogany and wait. Pausing, breathing, utterly motionless. 

The sounds from within are deafening, the songs so pure and simple and bright. 

I tap my fingers onto the knob and then take one step back. And then another. 

I’m not meant to be a part of this. I’m not meant to be a part of anything.

**Author's Note:**

> You ask, I deliver! Here's another with a few more already planned out. I also have a -gasp- comedic fic bouncing around my brains, so maybe that'll happen one of these days! x


End file.
